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User blog:DB Baxter/Madman's Song - Prologue
Hafnir walked quickly down the hallway, the prisoners hurling insults at him all the way down. Threats of murder and jokes about the size of his genitalia. None of it bothered him. He had more important things to worry about than the common rabble that found itself caged up in this dungeon. The cell he was after was at the very end of the hallway. It was in this cell that the most valuable of criminals were kept. Men with ludicrous amounts of information on some threat to the empire, political spies, enemy generals, and terrorists. All would be placed here to await interrogation or execution, under the watches of elite Penitus Oculatus agents. Right now, it was occupied by one of the best mages that the Empire had ever had. He had history with the man in that cell. At one time, the Nordic legate considered him a friend. It seemed that every mission Hafnir went on, they lead the charge together. More often than that, it was just the two of them working to take down Empires most dangerous threats. And then he became one of Empires most dangerous threats. At least, his work did. The guards of his cell came into view. Suddenly, they were at attention. “You’re not supposed to be back here,” One of them said. Hafnir’s hand seized something from his pockets, a slip of paper that had been signed and stamped. He handed it to the guards, and they read the print in silence. “What’s this…Elder Council?…” He muttered, shocked. The signatures were that of the esteemed council members themselves. The orders that the paper was authorizing were even more ludicrous. “We’re just going to let him go?” The other guard asked. “It’s none of your concern,” Hafnir put bluntly. “You’re dismissed. Head down to the barracks to retrieve a new assignment. The two guards exchanged worried glances, before handing the paper back to Hafnir. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Legate,” The guard said as he passed. After they had gone, Hafnir turned his attention to the cell. This one was devoid of any material. There was not even a sleeping roll. And so the occupant sat in the center of the room, legs crossed and head resting on his knuckles, as if he was meditating. Hafnir banged on the cell, and the prisoner’s head slowly rose up. “Come to pay a visit?” Dalacon asked. “And here I was thinking you’d leave me alone for the rest of my days…” “Get up,” Hafnir ordered. He wasn’t in the mood for games. “Those guards mentioned something about the Elder Council,” The old Breton noted. “How desperate have they become now that Titus is dead?” “The Elder Council has a deal to offer. They-“ “Truly desperate, then,” Dalacon said with a wide grin. “What’s Goriyn’s body count up to now? Last I heard, it was around 80 dead.” “110,” Hafnir corrected him. “Gods above…” He shook his head. “I could have prevented that, you know.” Hafnir’s glare hardened. He had to resist the urge to reach through those cells and throttle him. “I know what I did is considered immoral. But don’t deny that if I had the time to perfect my work, I would have had Goriyn’s head, and the head of all of his followers… Tell me, what was it that sent you into that fit of rage?” “Enough!” Hafnir banged his fist on the bars. “Enough… I’m not here to debate this. I’m just here to-“ “Negotiate on the part of the Council, I know,” Dalacon stepped closer. “Unfortunately, the client I’m representing won’t be willing to negotiate until his questions are answered.” Hafnir rested his forehead on steel with a weary sigh. “It was the kid,” Hafnir finally said. “Ah, of course. The infant,” Dalacon nodded. “The empty vessel. Tell me what, has become of it?” “He lives with me.” “With you?!” Dalacon cackled. “You… Oh, that’s rich! You’ve taken a demon into your home! And unstoppable killer, and you’ve let it walk free!” “He’s not a killer,” Hafnir shook his head. “And he has a name now. Vordel.” “Vordel,” Dalacon repeated, stroking his chin. He didn’t continue, as he seemed pleased with the answer provided. “So, what is the deal that the Coucil has prepared?” “They want you to-“ “Goriyn, I know,” Dalacon interrupted once again. “Find Goriyn, dead or alive. But, I’m sure they just don’t expect me to cooperate after you burned down all of my research and locked me in this cell to rot…” “Of course not…” Hafnir said bitterly. “They’ve agreed to pardon all charges and indictments against you…” “How expected,” Dalacon expected. “And knowing the incompetence, I guess that’s all they could come up with?” “It was. And…” Hafnir paused for a moment. Dalacon cocked his head. “And I knew you wouldn’t be satisfied with that. So here’s my offer.” Hafnir now had Dalacon’s full attention. “I’ll let you complete your work with Vordel. Only him. You get whatever is in him under control, you neutralize, or you abolish it, I don’t care. If Vordel dies, the deal’s off.” Dalacon seemed to be taken aback by this offer. When they burned his research to the ground, he thought that was it. Never had he dreamed that he would get this chance. It seemed too good to be true for the Breton. In fact, it was too good for him. “Why?” He asked. “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Hafnir said vaguely. “Regardless of times, you’d never do something like this. Goriyn would never drive you so far as to use something you care for as a bargaining chip…” There was a long silence between them as Dalacon worked to figure out Hafnir’s motives. “Unless… this isn’t about Goriyn?” A little more time, and Dalacon had a realization. “The creature... it snapped, didn't it?” Hafnir gave a very short, somber nod. “There was a bandit raid on the house.” “And he went feral,” Dalacon deduced. “And you saw it.” Hafnir rolled up his sleeve to show how close of a look he got. Teeth marks were embedded in his flesh. The skin around the teeth marks were pink. “Remarkable,” Dalacon said in awe. “The bandits?” “Dead. Every one of them.” “You have my attention,” Dalacon said. “It’ll be hard with my work being gone, but I’ll see what I can do with... "Vordel". When I have finished my work, I’ll want to see how the Lotsunvar progresses. Regularly. Every 30 days or so. Understood?” “We’ll work this out later,” Hafnir said. “Haf-“ “Later,” He hissed. “I need to get you to the Elder Council. So are we at a deal?” “For now,” Dalacon nodded. “But this discussion isn’t over.” “Of course,” Hafnir said. The key was jammed into the lock, and the door was opened. Dalacon and Hafnir walked down the Hallway together. Hafnir with a worried frown, and Dalacon with a smug grin. TO BE CONTINUED IN THE FUTURE RP: MADMAN'S SONG Category:Blog posts